Deal Worth Making
by ISwearInItalian
Summary: : Dean and Jo: a hunt gone wrong. AU – Sam's dead, Bobby's dead, Cas' gone - For my friend Corinne who's the Jo to my Dean. -discontinued until further notice-
1. Chapter 1

This was the worst thing that could have happened and Dean knew it. It wasn't the fact that they both had been knocked unconscious, not at all; it was the mere fact that they had been hunting a spirit of a serial killer, one that had a fetish for young blondes. And the young blonde they had used as bate? Jo. Of course it was Jo. She was the only woman that had been on the road with Dean Winchester for so long. And the worst part? Dean had actually told her the previous night that he loved her. Not such a bad thing, right? Wrong. Dean wasn't one of those sucky romantics, like some people thought he was. No, he was more of a "keep everything bottled up" guy. And Jo knew it. She honestly had been surprised when he told her this; she wasn't expecting him to say it at all, even if she could tell that he felt it. Jo wasn't a romantic or hardheaded, either. She was more of a mix between and she could muster up the courage every once in a while to whisper it to Dean. It wasn't hard, but it took the right moment for her to say it. It wasn't something she said every day or to his face, but it was something for them to build on, and at that moment their whole world was only hanging on by a thread.

Sitting with his head resting in his palms and near-prayer on his mind, Dean watched the life support machines work. It was the single scariest thing for him to see. He had fought demons and angels, vampires and werewolves, even his own brother, but nothing had scared him like this, or at least in a _long_ time. The worst part of it all was that Jo hadn't changed all night or all day. Or so said the doctors. He knew that the paranormal could do pretty messed up things to a person, he had firsthand experience, but he wasn't mentally prepared to lose the only person he had in this world that could keep him from raising his colt to his temple. Dean wasn't ready to lose Joanna Beth Harvelle.

He raised his head from his hands and leaned back in the seat, his finger tapping along the metal of his I.V., eyes transfixed on the blonde mess of curls scattered across the disposable hospital pillow. This place was a place of death, not life, and the Jo Dean knew was full of life and laughter and joy… The thought of her being held up in this

He had come to a conclusion, one he hadn't had to make in over two years. Dean pulled out the needle that pumped the clear liquid into his flesh and stood. Walking to Jo's bedside, reassuring himself there was nothing to lose in this deal; he presses his pale lips to her forehead and sighs.

"You'll be just fine, Jo. I promise."


	2. Chapter 2

Dean trekked down the bare sidewalk, the only person daring to be outside in such nasty weather. The whole town was drenched; water nearly flooding the streets and pooling up on the impenetrable concrete and pavement. It was a dreary day, one where most people would stay inside all day and not dare go outside unless it was unavoidable. But Dean Winchester had something to do, something that he wasn't about to put off until another day, another hour…

"Hey boy," Bobby had said, nearly a year ago. "Don't be doin' nothing stupid; ain't nothing worth dying over." He didn't know how untrue those words were. Dean had nothing in this world. No Sam, no Bobby, no parents. He was virtually alone in this world and he really didn't think he had anything left to lose doing this. The only thing he had left to care about was his 67' Impala and Jo. And Jo was shacked up in a crappy hospital bed, fighting for her own life. Doc had said there wasn't anything Dean could do to help besides gets some rest and pray. But Dean was done with praying. He didn't want anything to do with those dicks with angels and he only knew one sure-fire way that he could make sure Jo Harvelle made it out of that shitty place alive.

He'd only do this for one other person, and he did. Sam was dead and Dean couldn't live with that fact. And now that Sam was gone, Dean had felt more alone than ever. Nobody could've gotten him out of that slump. He had been one twitch of the finger from death. He didn't give a rat's ass about Michael or Lucifer anymore. They were behind him. They were in the cage feeling each other up with their feathers, or whatever they did with their time. And Dean simply didn't care. The only thing that brought him out of that stupor was Jo. They had met up at a bar down in Arizona when she had heard he was in town. He had been against the idea of meeting with her, but she had insisted; they hadn't seen each other in way over a few years and Jo wanted to catch up.

What Jo had seen had surprised her. She saw an empty shell of the Dean she had known. He was thinner, paler, and quieter than she would have ever imagined. And it scared her. His confidence was gone along with any inspiration that was left in him. He was a completely different person than the one she had punched in the face oh so long ago.

So she did what any normal person would do: she asked. At first, Dean had been the hardheaded one and was reluctant to tell her what had happened. Jo didn't push, but she made sure that he didn't get out of her sight. He had that haunted look, the one that Jo's own mother carried for so long after William Harvelle had passed, one that asked "do I keep going?"

Dean couldn't say he hadn't enjoyed the company of Jo, but it was different. He'd always been in the company of other guys, tough, pushy, unemotional. But being in the company of a woman was different. _Jo _was different. She pushed just enough of Dean's buttons to get to the truth.

And since those moments, they had hunted together. They both had their woes and scarred past, but they were a team and they didn't have a chance in the world. But the world is what you make it, right? It was the reason why Dean was so intent on keeping Jo safe. She was the only thing in his truly fucked up world that calmed him. Jo made him see things in himself that he didn't even know and she held him back from doing some of the stupidest, scariest things he could do. She couldn't die and leave him to defend himself against all the things he wanted to do to himself. He blamed himself for getting her hurt. He was the one who hadn't made sure the monster that had put Jo into that coma state was _really_ dead. And it was only him that could make it right, and he was positive this was the right thing to do. And if it wasn't…He'd make sure he'd pay for his own mistakes.


	3. Chapter 3

"No?" Dean was livid. He had hashed out his most elaborate debate that _any_ demon would say yes to. Or so he had thought. He had summoned the red eyed bitch over an hour ago and they hadn't come struck a deal until now and Dean was simply livid. He hadn't spent the past two days manning himself up to do the one thing he _knew _Jo wouldn't want him to do. Ever since he told her about the first time he'd made contact with a crossroads demon, she was opposed to the idea, not just because they were demons, but because you were putting a contract on your soul that lead you straight to hell.

"You're a Winchester," said the brunette, hand on hip and hair flowing freely in the breeze the crossroads gave her. "We've given both of you, _especially_ you, more than enough chances with us."

Lip curling, Dean countered, "Give me six months. More than enough time for you to take out a few hundred contracts before turning them in to Crowley."

"One," the demon said with an unwavering smile. "One month and your _precious_ little Joanna makes it out of her coma alive. Final offer, Dean. Your _soul_ for _her_ life…"

Dean worked at his jaw. If this were any other person, he wouldn't have taken this chance with a crossroads demon again; God knew he'd already been mixed up with them too many times to count and it was pretty much a damn miracle that this one had even agreed to deal. Sure, he'd had to deal with the King of the Crossroads and Lilith and even with the very first demon that started it all when Sam had gotten stabbed, but now was different. There was no way that Sam was coming back this time. He'd been gone nearly a year and Bobby had gotten mangled by that Wendigo a few months after his heart attack….There simply wasn't anything or anyone left for Dean to care about, except for the one who he was making the deal for, the person that meant the literal world to him and Dean _had_ just been offered more than he'd been offered an hour ago; who was to said that she wouldn't change her mind again once he started bargaining again?

"Deal," Dean said without any hesitation. "Just get on with your macho, hellion demon-ness and poof off to Neverland, or wherever the Hell you go. "

The demon's tongue snaked out of her mouth and ran across her brilliantly white teeth, stepping forward as she did. "My _pleasure_."


	4. Chapter 4

Aching, hunger, and confusion. That was all that Jo could feel at the present. Every bone in her body was crying out either in pain or frustration every time she blinked or moved. Her doctor had told her that she had been out for over a week and her belly was filled with need for some sort of sustenance that she deemed fulfilling. Jo was confused more than the anything. The nurses had told her she had a fifteen percent chance of waking from her coma and told her someone must have been praying for her, lots of support from the "big man" upstairs. She knew Dean wasn't the praying type, especially after everything that had happened with Sam and even before that with his Dad, but never thought that he would pray for _her_. And the knowledge that God was AWOL right now just made everything _that_ much more odd.

_Hell,_ she though. _Maybe it's just my luck that I get yanked back up out of something like this. _

Luck. Not fate.

She sat quietly in the hospital bed and waited for Dean to get back from the cafeteria downstairs. He had been dead set on getting her something that was "doctor-worthy" instead of the crap they had served for lunch. Her nurse, Miranda, had told her Dean had sat with her every day, even when his RN filled him full of Morphine the day after the accident and passed out in the chair beside of her bed. The thought of Dean – fucking – Winchester passed out cold in the tiny chair in the corner beside her bed made Jo want to laugh so hard. And hell, she would have too, if she didn't hurt so fucking much.

"Damn place wouldn't know a decent pie if a bird shit it on 'em," an annoyed voice echoed through the room before a latch clicked. "…Damn it."

She smiles in place of a laugh, knowing that Dean would know why she didn't. It wasn't like after a week of not speaking and a shit load of bruises all over her ribcage made her want to laugh her damned ass off for an hour, nevertheless chuckle.

Clearing her throat, she utters raspily, "That bad, huh?"

Dean's head shook sternly, airy laughter swallowing up the air in front of them as he placed the plastic container and plastic ware on Jo's table. "Worse. But you'll live." He taps the top of the container before scooting it forward. "Now eat up."

Jo gave him a look. She was getting slightly annoyed with all of Dean's antics, not that they weren't sweet and all, but lately he was getting plain annoying. Very _un-Dean_ like. But she was just going to pass it off as a weird sense of happiness for now. Jo sits up further and reaches for the fork.

Dean watches her, helps her, and eventually they lay there and flip on some unpractical show about a book and fairytales coming to live. A nurse came in and told both of them that if all went well, she would be discharged tomorrow and could go "home." That made Jo chuckle. However, for now, TV and pie? Seemed like heaven.


End file.
